Why I Will Never Post a Negative Review

Before I head out for a low key New Year's Eve with friends, full of laughter, I'm sure, but involving no new-to-me restaurants that may/may not result in a post, I thought I'd address a question I've received more often in the last few months:

Why don't you ever write negative reviews?

There are a lot of great blogs and reviewers out there who review restaurants/plays/insert-cultural-excursion-here with a discerning eye and impart their opinions positive or negative.  Some of these reviewers have made a career (how cool is THAT?!) out of these opinions, and some just enjoy painting a picture for readers of their experience, whether or not that picture is a happy one. However, I started this blog in large part as a venue to make recommendations to friends.  I like to go to restaurants, run races, check out plays, go to concerts, and instead of filling emails with long lists of possibilities when friends ask me about favorite spots/activities, I thought a blog would be an easier (and more amusing) method of answering those inquiries.

So because this blog was always an extension of my "oh-my-word, you MUST check out this restaurant I went to last night..." dialogue, it has been shaped similarly.  I get no joy in offering negative reviews. My view is that any restaurant can have an off night.  Having waited tables for years, I'm positive every waiter/waitress has their share of off nights. So when I do have experiences that I'd prefer not be repeated, I just don't review it.  Odds are, unless the experience was somehow offensive in its awfulness, I'll be back to give it a second shot anyway. Why obsess over one visit that ended poorly when there are more enjoyable things to discuss?

I offer a few more criticisms when reviewing theater productions.  I'm comfortable doing that because it's rare that I attend a show that I wouldn't recommend on some level.  If I saw something I truly hated, again, I'd just refrain from blogging about it.  So much of these experiences are shaped by personal preference, I'm open to the idea that what I loathe, someone else might love.

And while some of this always-positive angle is self-serving (I just don't LIKE negative reviews, they just feel boring to me), part of the decision not to lambast an experience is because social media has become more powerful than I'm comfortable with sometimes.  I'm just a young, professional, single woman who likes going out and experiencing her city. I'm not a chef, nor an actress (though I like to cook and I did act a great deal in a past life), and my race-running prowess is often graced with the caveat that I'm slower than the majority of runners. All that to say, I'm not an expert on any of these subjects.

A blog lets me feign some level of know-how or know-of and that's more responsibility than I'd like to accept. Some of my experiences are great, and I love giving shout outs to those establishments.  But when my experiences leave something to be desired, I would hate to know that statements I make in frustration could damage the reputation of hard-working restauranteurs, race directors, actors, etc. My voice is a quiet one in the blogosphere, but it takes so little these days to damage a spot's ability to attract guests. A couple angry Yelp reviews, a few Tweets of ire, and all of the sudden Mom-and-Pop corner bakery is empty on Saturday morning. That's not anything I want on my conscience. The men and women behind the places I often review have embarked on a career I admire but doubt I'd ever have the guts to pursue.  I recognize that and offer a sincere high five.

There are simply too many restaurants, races, plays, concerts, museums, art shows, festivals, and other doodahs to enjoy in these Cities to waste my time bemoaning the ones that don't live up to my expectations.

And with that explanation as my midnight kiss to this blog, I'm looking forward to lots of "oh-my-word, you MUST try this new spot I found, race I ran, exhibition I saw, band I heard, food truck I tried..." posts in 2014!

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The Mason Jar

After a beautiful afternoon of snowshoeing, all that's desired is a cozy dinner spot and a glass of wine. As I'm a big fan of the Minneapolis Cupcake location, I was excited to give the Eagan Cupcake location's adjoining restaurant, The Mason Jar, a whirl.

Filled, of course, with mason jar light fixtures and kitschy mason jar art, the space is embracing a literal decor, which comes off warm and a bit cheesey (and who doesn't love cheese?). Not a bad set of adjectives for a spot with a pretty killer happy hour special of half price beer/wine and $6 pizzas.  My friend and I each had a glass of wine, a cup of soup, and split the Ms. Piggy pizza and our bills were just under $12 apiece. That is really tough to beat! The pizza was delicious, as was the vegetable soup, and the service was good, especially considering they're likely still working the kinks out at such a new location.

There were several items on the menu that I tucked away as justification for later visits (multiple hot dish options, fun appetizers, housemade pot pies).  Being the companion restaurant to the always yummy Cupcake bakery (link here to my review of the Minneapolis location), you'd expect great things out of any baked recipe, so I'd wager a glass of wine on their having a pretty great pot pie crust.  Add to that an impressive beer list with local favorites and the promise of cupcakes for dessert and this new spot is a fun, mason-jars-are-just-too-adorable addition to the restaurant file.

Phantom of the Opera

In a new staging made famous by an impressive chandelier and significant pyrotechnics, the star of the Phantom of the Opera is still the organ-laced, dramatic score.  Andrew Lloyd Weber's most famous work is restaged by Cameron Mackintosh (also responsible for the Les Mis restaging) and all the darkness and heavy-handed romance is still there for your viewing pleasure, and I say that with nothing but affection. 

Mark Campbell's Phantom is perfectly oppressed and oppressive, making him not only a pitiable "creature" but an overbearing villain master-minding his ingenue's rise to fame out of a quasi-creepy obsession.  Julia Udine is a sweetly powerful Christine, bringing the audience to a series of "Bravas" after several of the famous songs, including "The Phantom of the Opera" and "Think of Me."  Supported by an  Ben Jacoby's excellently devoted lover, Raoul, and a perfect diva in Jacquelynne Fontaine's Carlotta, Campbell and Udine are given all the necessary support they need to soar through Weber's masterpiece.

The set seems to be a magical music box of its own, opening this way and that to reveal the nooks and crannies of the opera house.  I was most impressed by the appearance of stairs leading to the Phantom's lair, which immediately reminded me of Harry Potter's Hogwarts staircases. The use of shadow and statues set in relief against twilight skies provided the perfect backdrop for the Phantom's sad but beautiful story. 

Phantom plays at the Orpheum through January 5th.  And students/educators, don't forget your chance to score $25 rush seats 2 hours before every performance!

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The Buttered Tin

This place would have been a dream come true when I worked 2 blocks away in downtown St. Paul! Alas, The Buttered Tin made it's debut a couple of years after my stint on the other side of the river. I'm sad to miss out on what would have been daily proximity, but I'm happy to find another cozy brunch spot to add to a growing list of favorites.

I trekked there on an icy Sunday after church and despite a white knuckle drive from Minneapolis, the warm, bright interior helped me forget the negative windchill outside. At noon on a Sunday, we waited 45 minutes for a table of 3, so keep that in mind if you're in a rush.  The shop is small so aside from one small bench, those waiting for tables will be standing.  But once I had a mug of coffee in my hand, I didn't mind. And when I vaguely recall sunnier days, I can imagine a summertime wait outside being just fine. Perhaps those days will return. Perhaps...

I ordered the tuna melt and was very happy with the choice.  No overly mayonaisse-y mess here, hallelujah. Tuna mixed with olives and peppers and covered with gruyere on housemade focaccia? Yup. That's how that's meant to be done. As happy as I was with my choice, eyeballing another table's biscuits and gravy and my friend's beautiful hashbrowns made me second guess my choice of lunch over brunch fare. Just a reason to go back, I know, and the tuna melt was reason enough.

Service was great. Warm and casual, and quick once we were seated, our waitress was rather perfect and I'm bummed I don't remember her name. She deserves a hearty, "thank you!"  We never had to ask for our coffees to be warmed up and on more than one occasion I wondered, "when did she refill my water glass?" That kind of service just made me want to sit there and chat all afternoon, maybe grab one of those red velvet cupcakes. At the very least, it made me anxious to return.

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Born Yesterday

Contrary to popular belief, A Christmas Carol is not the only production currently making a home at the Guthrie. Born Yesterday is playing through January 5th and it's well worth a visit on its own merit and not just as choice #2 should the rush seats for Christmas Carol sell out.

A dramatic comedy set in post-WWII Washington, D.C., the show's central arc is Pygmalion-esque. A dim-witted damsel comes under the tutelage of a kind and somewhat lovesick glasses-wearing reporter (Paul), all for the benefit of strengthening a facade of propriety for the damsel (Billie) and her not-husband (Harry), whose business depends on Washington favors.  That underbelly of Washington muscle is almost its own character, standing just behind the curtains, smirking at an uncivilized mess. 

Pygmalion roots it may have, but this is no My Fair Lady.  Jeff Still plays Harry with a deft hand, able at once to both patronize and adore his mistress.  He is cruel and yet, on occasion, seems to convince himself and the audience that he does love her.  The trick, of course, is that he loves her wound up in a tight little cage, wings clipped, with only a mink coat here or there to blind her from the misery of her life. It's no wonder Billie's often chasing a bottle around the hotel room, a beautiful set perfectly depicting the decadence of $235/night in the late 1940s. 

As the books and Paul's sincere attention start to open Billie's eyes to her trap, some of the hilarity is brushed aside for more shadowy conversations. Political corruption, freedom, education, the rights of men and women...all the heady topics of the day are seemingly encapsulated in that shiny hotel room. Alexis Bronkovic, as Billie, and John Patrick Hayden, both in their Guthrie debuts, are excellent.  Bronkovic's Billie is crass and flirtatious and wholly ignorant not only of Harry's shady dealings, but also of her own misery. Hayden's Paul manages to be brilliant without steamrolling his student.  Despite questions that would make any teacher's eyes roll ("What's a Supreme Court?"), Paul provides encouragement without being patronizing.  Most importantly, he guides Billie on a path of her own, never lecturing, but only providing the means by which Billie can educate herself.  She is her own rescuer, making her a damsel that eventually grows tired of her distress. 

Rounded out with a strong supporting cast of a self-loathing lawyer and a corrupt senator, Born Yesterday is a fast-paced, funny, emotional ride.  So don't forget it in your rush to see the Christmas classic, this one may be headed to classic territory, too.

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Dulono's Pizza

Dulono's has been my go-to on lazy weekend nights for a few years. With beer, pizza, and bluegrass starting at 8pm every Friday and Saturday, it's often where I head when I'm anxious to get out of the house but don't have a hankering for exploring new-to-me locales.

The music is sometimes hit-or-miss for a true blue bluegrass lover. Some nights are better than others, but even the less exciting acts are good background ambience for beers and pizza in a cozy, kitschy booth. I've almost always stuck to the House Special pizza (pictured), because I'm a sucker for olives, but I bet all the specialty pizza are worth a whirl (although I can't get behind the cheeseburger-themed one, there's something about pickles on pizza that disturbs me). I split a Medium, which was plenty for two people, but having a cold, leftover slice of this in the morning would not be a bad thing.

Family-friendly, reasonably-priced, and quick to deliver those pizzas to table, Dulono's is a welcome dose of ease, lacking in any pretension, in the often over-priced and crowded Uptown haunts. Just around the corner from Cause Soundbar, Huge Improv Theater, and the Jungle, Dulono's would be an easy supper to start off a night of further entertainment, too.  No reservations necessary (do they even take reservations??) but for more well-known bluegrass acts you'll want to get there early for a good table.

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Tribes

My first thought in seeing the set for Tribes in the McGuire Proscenium at the Guthrie was, "I want to live there." Walls plastered in books, floor to ceiling, with a grand staircase not unlike the ones housed in the great libraries of the world, it seems a book lover's paradise.

It takes a mere 2 minutes to realize, however, that the family within these book-blessed walls are not dwelling anywhere near paradise. Flinging obscenities and insults at one another as casually as other families pass the mashed potatoes, a table of wounded or wounding parties is the audience's first glimpse of Nina's Raine's raw, poignant exploration of what it means to belong. While Christopher, a father of so little warmth one wonders if we would have rather had cats instead of children, alternates between mocking his daughter's dating choices and degrading one son's vocational failures, our protagonist sits quietly at the end of the table, occasionally asking for clarification on the origin of the table's anger.

Billy, our protagonist and the youngest of Christopher and Beth's children, is deaf.  But his family, and most vehemently his father, has raised him in the world to be something other than deaf.  Never taught to sign, Billy lipreads and evaluates expressions in order to translate the world around him.  Repeatedly he asks his family what is going on, and repeatedly he is lovingly dismissed. "It's nothing." "Not important." Even before we meet the woman that will break Billy out of his communicative vacuum, the audience can sense that there is a well of feeling in Billy being casually brushed aside. Repeatedly.

Not only surrounded by the book-laden walls, constant reminders of a mutual language without mutual expression, the sound designers also awaken us to the sound inherent in deafness.  Not a blank, empty silence, but a constant roar and scratch emerges, made more poignant by Sylvia's comment that she never knew how noisy it would be to be deaf.

Sylvia, played beautifully by Tracey Maloney, meets Billy at a party. Avoiding the peril of being in a room of deaf signers and being unable to communicate, Billy's conversation with Sylvia, hampered though it is by Sylvia's failing hearing and Billy's inability to sign flows surprisingly well. Sylvia straddles the hearing and non-hearing world as a woman with deaf parents who is slowly, herself, going deaf. Her ability to communicate fluently with the deaf community, a community Billy's father has looked upon with disdain, fascinates Billy.  But behind the apparent attraction, there is a hesitance in Sylvia, perhaps from that first moment, as she finds herself moving more fully towards a world she wishes she would not enter. How do you mourn the loss of your hearing in the company of those who've never had it?

As Sylvia and Billy's relationship strengthens, as Billy is heard by those outside his family, we watch his family crumble into a mess of missed cues, mixed messages, and stammering (literally, in the case of Billy's brother, Dan) attempts at communication. Sally Wingert, as Beth, tries to soften the barbs flung between her husband and children but as we listen to her clumsily describe a novel she has no clue how to write, we're left with the suspicious that she's equally clueless as to how to manage the language used and abused in her own home. And while Billy's sister, Ruth, played by Anna Reichert, comes to the realization that her vocal talent is no match for the operatic talents around her, Billy's brother, played by Hugh Kennedy, struggles with voices of a different kind.  Dan, especially, decays with the absence of his brother.  Insomnia and the incessant voices in his head (more of the anxious variety than schizophrenic) reduce him to the stammering boy he was as a child.  Apparently, despite Billy's frequent dismissal, his form of communication and connection was a necessary balm for his brother's wounds.

As the play reaches its crescendo (I won't give it away), every character, at some point or another, seems to be saying, "you're not listening to me, you're not understanding." Billy's defiance, his brother's brokenness, his father's desperate justifications, and Sylvia's sad admission, all echo the desperate need for connection within those book-laden walls.  And upon curtain, we're reminded that even those who loved us first and may have done their best to love us right, may still fail us.  But if out of that failure comes a desire to listen and to speak the same language, then maybe the failure is not fatal.

Tribes is a brilliant, emotionally raw, often funny exploration of the language we know as a family, the tribes we have no control over and the tribes we choose. See (and hear) it. Tribes plays at the Guthrie through November 10.

*Just a note, lots of cussing, so if you're sensitive to that, take note.

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Pig Ate My Pizza

This was my second trip to Pig Ate My Pizza, the pizza joint brought to you by the Travail crew. I can't remark on its progeny as a Travail-birthed establishment because I haven't actually been to Travail. I know, I know. It's on my list. My ever-growing list.  Minneapolis/St. Paul is an embarrassment of riches...

I didn't write about Pig the first time I visited because I was fighting a monster head cold and couldn't string enough words together beyond, "mmm...good...sudafed."  I felt liked I'd be shortchanging the place with that kind of post.

The restaurant is an easy find off Highway 100, for those like me coming from the south. It's not so easy to find a table unless you're a smarty like we were on the second attempt and arrive immediately when they open.  There were already several people waiting outside the door on Monday night, but we still sat down with no problem.  The tables are long wooden picnic-ish tables so if you're averse to sitting next to a stranger, be forewarned. By the time we were digging into our pies, the place was getting busy, so it doesn't take long after 5 pm for spots to be at a premium.

A few notes for the newcomers, the seating process can feel disjointed if you're a newbie. My first time I arrived with a friend and I think we stood next to the bar for a good 5 minutes wondering what was going on until a friendly patron informed us that we had to give our name to the bartender. Gotcha. Not intuitive. Suffice it to say, there's no host/hostess to guide this process.  If you're new to the place and you arrive to find a crowd, just ask somebody who's standing nearby who to talk to. People are friendly, don't be scared. And get yourself a beer, you're going to wait a good half hour at least.

The pizza itself is delicious and worth the wait and hassle to figure out seating arrangements.  The ingredient combinations are exciting and the staff is enthusiastic about pointing out their personal favorites.  I had the Smoking Cubano last night, pretty much a "must" for anybody who has ever in life craved a Cuban sandwich. Pizzas are easily shareable but also pretty easy to do one apiece if you're cool with leftovers. We tackled the Piggy Pizza, too, which is exactly what it sounds like. Every delicious part of a pig piled on top of brioche (!!) crust.  Honestly, it was a little overwhelming for me and my companion echoed the sentiment that he preferred my pizza to his. The Piggy might be a fun, decadent one to tackle with a sizeable crew, so you're each overloading on that sticky brioche in a reasonable portion. We eyed the desserts nearby, a new creation each night, but were adequately stuffed to say no. The liquid nitrogen element of the desserts (on both nights I've visited) inspires me to save room for that sweet experiment next time.

The atmosphere of the restaurant is casual and fun, definitely a great place for friends to toast with local beers on tap and test pizza concepts they hadn't dreamed up (mini tacos on a pizza?? somebody take a picture of the Nacho Libre pizza and post it, please).  I'd caution those on first dates or in the company of shy/quiet folk, if only because the decibel level can get a bit overwhelming with the combo of music and boisterous patrons. Monday night was a manageable noise level, but the first time I went I was cupping my hands around my mouth to quasi-shout at my friend across the table. That was a Friday night, so may be more of an issue in the busier hours.

All in all, a great addition to the impressive pizza scene in the Cities. As the pizza selections rotate, there are still many I'll need to take a crack at, so the Pig will call me back soon, I'm sure.

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Shakopee Auction

My usual stomping ground is Northeast Minneapolis, Uptown, South Minneapolis, etc. This is as much a function of where I live as where I prefer to wander. But I like getting out of the city.  There's something to be said for less stoplights and a supper for 2 that clocks in for less than $30 (with tip). Throw in a beautiful church, friendly faces, and the opportunity to bid on 20+ pairs of earrings for $25 and I'm officially charmed by downtown Shakopee.

This was my second time to the Friday night Shakopee Auction. It's a bit intimidating walking in if you've never participated before.  You register at the payment window and they give you a number for bidding.  You can wander the room and poke around at the various goods for sale.  If you're just there to watch and non-committal about bidding, just grab a seat and see if anything strikes your fancy.  I went with my Dad and we decided to express bid a box of costume jewelry.  To do so, you just grab the item (the "lot") you want and are willing to pay at least $10 for, and place it on the shelf at the front of the auction hall. From there you wait for your goods to be called and hope for the best! We thought the box was a good buy for $30 or less and grabbed it with $5 to spare on our rough budget.  And having poked more thoroughly through the haul at home, we did well! 25 pairs of earrings, 3 necklaces, 2 nice pins, and a couple Care Bear bracelets (good for laughs, even if they're headed for the trash) is well worth the $25. My kid sister is already excited about the jewelry-laden care package in her future.

My Dad bid on a luggage rack a few minutes later and lucked out at $5.  Couches and other furniture went for as low as $15 so if you're looking for furniture odds and ends, you could get lucky. You can review the items up for auction online beforehand so if you're serious about certain types of goods, you can peruse the offerings before committing to attending. But even without a spending agenda, it's just a fun way to spend a Friday evening.  They usually have food (this evening's provider canceled so they ended up ordering Domino's), always have cokes for purchase, and the atmosphere is very family-friendly (although, fair warning, there were stuffed animals up for bid and if I had been 7, I would have begged my Dad til I was blue in the face for anything cute). 

It's not a typical Friday night for me, but maybe it should be.

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Bear Water Run 20 Miler

It has been nearly a month since my last post and I blame marathon training for that (less eating out, more time spent running, more napping).  It's fitting then that my first post after the marathon training hiatus is a race review for my last big run before race day.

I've done the Bear Water 20 Miler twice before and both those times it was boiling hot and humid.  So I sighed the sigh of the doomed when I signed up a couple months ago.  But evidently God was smiling on we running folk today because it was fantastic running weather, mid-50s at the start, mid-60s by the time I finished.  If marathon day could feel like that or a touch cooler, I'd be thrilled.

The race is hosted by the White Bear Lake Lions Club to support their many charities and they do a wonderful, wonderful job. For a very reasonable price of $45 (or $50 on race day) you get a perfectly supported race, chip timed, enthusiastic volunteers, and a course that winds (twice) around White Bear Lake.  They host a 10 miler at the same time so the lucky 20 milers get to watch the 10 milers cross the finish and wander over for free 5 minute massages from a local chiropractor while they get to start their second lap.

The course itself is fairly hilly, with sizable stretches of flats between rolling hills.  I like that aspect of it because the Twin Cities Marathon is so flat, I feel like White Bear is a tough 20 miles and therefore, a good practice run for the later race. There are water stops every two miles and each is manned by high-fiving, supportive volunteers.  Several stops were manned by local high schoolers in various costumes. The 50s sock hop crew was my favorite, complete with girls in poodle skirts and a cool guy leaning against an old pickup, a pack of cigarettes rolled into his white t-shirt.

The typical bananas, bagels, and oranges are waiting at the finish, as well as an impressive swag bag considering how the race price.  I've been to many $75 half-marathons that give you a shirt and not much else.  For significantly less money (and a significantly longer distance) you get a shirt plus typical race swag bag doodahs.  And I'm a sucker for doodahs.  A water bottle? Seriously? Can I give you a hug? I love water bottles.

Any year I am nuts enough to sign up for the Twin Cities Marathon, I'll be at the Bear Water Run a few weeks before. It always feels like the kick-off to my last few weeks of training, and it was a great kick-off this year.

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Endless Summer Trail Series Lebanon Hills

As I train for the Twin Cities Marathon (gulp!), midweek mileage continues to be a struggle.  Committing to a weekend long run is no problem, I can carve that time out religiously.  But waking up early for 5 milers or begrudgingly tackling them after a long day at the office is tougher.  I do it, but I'm not happy about it sometimes.

Enter, the Endless Summer Trail Series 7 miler at Lebanon Hills. 6:30 p.m. on a Wednesday night, this "race" (quotes explained shortly) makes a loop around the park, rolling over moderate inclines and enough trail switches to keep you on your toes. It takes something truly special to make me excited to run 7 miles after work, and this race nailed it. Despite a delayed start due to parking issues (hopefully that gets sorted out next year), the crowd was happy and relaxed, no whining about that extra 15 minutes standing around.

This isn't for the uber-serious racer because it starts off with a good half mile of single track, causing an instant bottleneck. If that frustrates you, maybe pass on this one, or make sure you are leading the pack. As I'm very comfortable with my slower-than-average pace, bottlenecks are just a gentle way to warm up. Start, stop, run, jog, stop. Warming up.

Cheaper than most races (you get a cute little coffee mug instead of the do-I-really-need-another-tech-shirt tech shirt), supported locally by Rocksteady Running and TC Running, beer and pizza await you at the finish.  Sure, it's Dominoes, but if you're a snob at the finish line I probably don't want to be your friend anyway. It's a casual, friendly run with wonderful volunteers and organizers. I'll give an additional plug to the race director as he did me a wonderful favor when I accidentally signed up for the race twice (genius) and canceled the second transaction before it was processed.  Such is the benefit of a small-ish, local run. The community is warm and inviting and the organizers really want everyone to have a great time (and not accidentally pay twice for race entries). The small size also makes it a great race to do solo.  Instead of being swallowed whole by a throng of thousands, I chatted with a couple women on the trail and others at the finish. No pretension, no show-offs, just a great bunch of folks enjoying a beautiful summer night on the trails.

The fourth of the Endless Summer Trail Series, this was the only race in the series I did this year.  But my experience at Lebanon Hills pretty much guarantees I'll be signing up for the full series next summer.

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Marin Restaurant and Bar

Our waitress introduced us to Marin Restaurant and Bar, a new Hennepin addition downtown, by letting us know that Marin is a county in California. And once you take a peek at the menu and try the food, it will all become clear how all those movie stars stay svelte. The trick, I hazard to guess, is a live-in chef whipping up healthy, delicious meals with impressively low calorie counts like those found at Marin. This isn't rabbit food, so don't let the "healthy" descriptor fool you.  The menu provides calorie/fat/protein/carb counts for each dish and the vast majority of offerings were gluten free. But that doesn't mean the dishes lack flavor. Quite the contrary, my scallops with lobster-fingerling hash and corn sauce were delicious and satisfying.  I ordered a side of kale which could have easily been split between two people but I ate it all myself (at 70 calories why on earth would you share those spicy, garlicky greens?). And my picture doesn't do the dish justice, it was infinitely prettier than the picture provides. Beautifully sliced potatoes, expertly done scallops (so easy to overcook those suckers), and a handful of popcorn (!) made for an exciting, I-can't-wait-to-eat-this presentation. If I had a chef in-house making me meals like this every night, I would never worry about my hips again. But, hips be damned, we split dessert. And further gaining my respect, Marin doesn't list the calories for the dessert list. Dessert shouldn't have anything to do with calorie counting, it's just a small, often shared, slice of happiness. And after a light, no-guilt-necessary supper, what's the harm in sharing a dish of something sweet? The lemon cake was light and summery, the perfect end to a perfect pre-theater meal.  I have definitely found my new favorite spot before heading to the Orpheum. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Les Miserables

Les Miserables is one of those sacred shows for me. I first saw it as a seventh grader in St. Louis, on a French class field trip. My kid sister was born months earlier so she effectively spent her first five years as my own private audience for various Eponine/Fantine Broadway fantasies. The music remains cherished in my family. As is always the case, a lifetime of love makes a person a harsh critic. And as I've never seen the new staging of Les Mis, I was both excited and wary of Hennepin Theatre Trust's run of the show. But my concern was ill-placed.  If anything, I'm left wondering what it is I loved so much about the last staging. The new staging is tighter, cleaner, and more intimate.  While I found the former spinning stage centerpiece in the old staging novel, I never missed it in the new. The play of lights and backdrop provided the necessary movement for periods of transition and the use of shadow and single, direct illumination at key moments proved visually and emotionally powerful. Almost every major character's vocal performance was stunning, with only Marius proving to be a bit weak in certain points.  But even his performance, which was somewhat whiny and unmanly to me on the whole, brought chills during Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Played by Devin Ilaw, Marius seemed to age and deepen in that one song, haunted by his fallen comrades.  Apropos for the story, of course, but I would have preferred a bit more of that depth early on. Fantine's heartache was the most palpable for me, her staccato sung statements perfectly balancing with the violent desolation wrapped in I Dreamed a Dream. Her love for her daughter and her desperate attempt to provide for her are tearjerkers, so come prepared. Les Mis is not Les Mis without a gut-punching Valjean, and Peter Lockyer delivers. Those who've seen the recent movie will recognize their Valjean, shaved, scarred head and all, at the play's beginning.  Valjean's transformation, his struggle to both escape and embrace his identity, feels organic and lushly defined.  Every note, every word flows from a real, identifiable personality onstage. Part of this is to the credit of a beautifully written book and characters developed over years and years of musical workmanship, but much is owed to the actor embodying the role. Lockyer expertly delivers the humanness of our hero, a broken man who clambers out of a bed of unfair consequences to attempt a life worth living. But the revelation to me in this show was not Valjean or Fantine, beautiful performances though they were.  Javert was the killer for me.  This could be personal as I've honestly been dismissive of Javert.  He has always felt like a cookie-cutter tightly wound bully of a bad guy and that cookie-cutter nature made him boring.  But Andrew Varela's Javert is awe-inspiring! His guttural-without-being-growling tone provides the perfect canvas upon which one paints the opposing forces working in these men.  For the first time, I felt truly sorry for Javert, and ached for his confusion upon Valjean's dismissal of him as a man "just doing his duty." A pursuit of justice is certainly a noble duty and Varela expertly walks that line of a man both driven by and enslaved by his sense of righteousness. Whether you're a newbie to the Les Mis experience, a recent fan of the movie, or a long-suffering devotee who knows every word to every song like myself, this performance provides all the dark, heart-wrenching, tear-soaked power that you desire. It's a do-not-miss. Follow me on Twitter @TheMinneapolite

Corner Table

Ever since I tried their pate in gougere at the Summit Sausage fest this winter, Corner Table has been on my hit list. Life being what it is, I've been too busy poking around elsewhere to make good on that commitment.  But Restaurant Week is a great time to fulfill those gustatory obligations, and I made reservations at Corner Table weeks in advance to make sure I didn't miss out.

I wish I could say I was tempted by all the appetizer choices. The others were beautifully done (my table companions had one of each, the gnocchi and the bean salad), but when I see the words, "pork belly," the decision-making part of my brain officially retires. And the icing on the cake was the accompanying chow chow.  I've loved chow chow for decades, and think of it most fondly as the mustard-y pickled condiment we pick up at roadside stands in East Tennessee, on the way to meet family tucked into those mountains. If Corner Table had simply offered a bowl of their chow chow and a biscuit, I probably would have left a happy camper.  The pork belly had a perfectly crispy outer layer, providing just the right stiffness to counter the moist interior.  The salty (not overly so) bite of belly was balanced by the sweet brine of the chow chow and the surprise of the chile vinaigrette made me sad to note we'd finished off our bread. I would have gladly sopped up the remainder of soupy goodness with a slice. 

I chose the lamb ragu as my entree, again with little trouble deciding.  The salmon with braised fennel would have been a lighter choice (and it looked lovely on my friends' plates), but I don't get lamb often and marathon training makes justifying pasta very easy. The fresh peas and ricotta were a bright, light balance to the richness of the lamb and made me wonder what else I could throw into a pot with those ingredients. Sometimes, I think I love a restaurant most when it etches inspiration in my head. Ricotta and lamb and peas...filed away for further experimentation.

The finale was decadent and beautiful. Sweet potato donuts were paired with a smear of molasses and a lovely cup of dunk-worthy toffee cream. In my just-a-person-who-likes-to-cook-and-eat-good-food-but-in-no-way-formally-trained opinion, people don't do enough with molasses. That deep, dense, nearly-salty molasses flavor was only lightly hinted at in this plate, but the smear was a perfect companion for the sweet, sweet cream and fluffy sweet potato pastry. A lovely finish to a lovely first (and certainly not last) meal at Corner Table.

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Morrissey's Irish Pub

Another new spot on Lake popped up while I was looking elsewhere. Next door to Spill the Wine and kitty corner (kinda) to Bryant Lake Bowl, Morrissey's Irish Pub is a welcome addition to the Uptown food landscape.  

Popping in at 5:30 on a Thursday, I expected to find more Uptowners kicking off their weekend with a pint.  But the restaurant wasn't crowded, just a solid handful of folks at the bar and a few other couples here and there wandering in for a bite or a beer. 

Several draught choices, including solid local favorites like Indeed's Day Tripper and Fulton's Sweet Child of Vine, made for easy pickings beer-wise. Morrissey's is a whiskey bar, but I didn't test any of their offerings this time around.  The heat seemed to call for beer and tall glasses of ice water. 

We started with the smoked salmon bites appetizer, which was a great, light way to kick off a shared meal. If I'd been dining alone, I could have easily (and happily) eaten this dish as my entree. Four boxty (that's thin, crispy potatoes, like a really flat and stiff hashbrown) are topped with smoked salmon, capers, and a horseradish sauce. If you're looking for an easy starter to share or a lighter meal, this would be a solid choice.

We then split the Irish breakfast, which included everything you'd expect of a respectable breakfast dish from the Isles, eggs, bangers (sausage), potato bread, chips (that's fries, y'all), grilled tomato, beans. The breakfast is served all day, so feel free to indulge in your breakfast hankering at any time.  

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Rosa Mexicano

Restaurant week is always a bit overwhelming. Where do I go? What do I try? So I'm always grateful when someone else makes the decision for me. Together, a group of us ladies decided on Rosa Mexicano in part because there was a solid vegetarian choice for the veggie-lover among us and because it's hard to go wrong with a margarita on a Monday. 

My first impression of Rosa is that it is HUGE. I'm not sure if that's how all the locations are or if this was just a consequence of the space available. The sheer number of table space within and outside on its patio makes it hard for me to imagine this place ever really filling up, but maybe downtown Friday and Saturday nights are more raucous than I'm envisioning. With a solid Restaurant Week offering and a respectable happy hour menu, I was surprised that the restaurant wasn't busier at 6pm.  Despite our being a party of 5, I imagine we didn't really need the reservation. We could have easily acquired a table by wandering in. 

Unlike many Restaurant Week menus, Rosa offers a list of four categories within which you pick three: appetizer, entree, drink, dessert.  This is a great deal, really, especially if you're traveling in a crowd.  We ended up getting a double batch of the tableside guacamole and an order of queso to start and we all enjoyed our margaritas as we nibbled before the entrees arrived. The guacamole was wonderful, and I appreciated the additional sauce sides so that I could up the spice level to my liking. The queso was less inspiring (although I ate plenty of it), but I've never been a huge queso fan.  I would have been happier with a bowl of that chorizo. 

I ordered the carne asada tacos and wasn't disappointed. Served with sides of a thinly creamy roasted corn dish and soup beans (and black beans and rice served family style), the steak was tender and flavorful.  It was served over a melted cheese that seemed out of place.  If there's cheese on a plate in front of me, I will eat it, but I would have happily welcomed instead a bed of peppers or onions instead of the cheese. 

Our server was helpful when it came to decision-making and had several recommendations we appreciated. She did note, however, that Restaurant Week provided a great deal on the steak tacos as they're normally over $20.  I doubt I'd pay over $20 for that dish again.  But it would be worthwhile to split some guacamole and an entree.

There were several things on the menu I'd happily try (mmmm...plantains...) and I think Rosa would be an excellent place for a happy hour, so it is filed away for future use.  If you're curious about the place I'd definitely recommend taking advantage of the Restaurant Week menu, hard to beat a drink, entree, and appetizer for $30 a person. And if you're lucky enough to bring a date, one of you could get an appetizer and the other a dessert and share like the smart, restaurant-hopping couple you are. ;) 

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Pride and Prejudice

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a blogger with bookshelves overflowing with classic literature would be hard-pressed to keep her trap shut about Pride and Prejudice at the Guthrie. Celebrating the Guthrie's 50th Anniversary with a loving tribute to the 200th anniversary of the publication of Austen's most famous work makes for a double whammy of warm fuzzies.

As with any beloved piece of literature that has been reworked and reimagined onscreen, any production would battle the impressions left of other interpretations. The brooding scowl of Colin Firth's Darcy and the more recent Keira Knightley-led version are images heavily buried in many Austen fans' minds, for better or worse.  But the Guthrie delivers a sprightly-paced, snarky, sumptuous (so much alliteration) rendition that valiantly captures much of the spunk of Austen's famous heroine.

Lizzie, played strongly by Ashley Rose Montondo, may be central to the play's unfolding, but her dialogues are not the most interesting.  The first bit of bantering between her and Vincent Kartheiser's Mr. Darcy aren't as acidic as fans of the novel might like.  It's difficult to catch Darcy's feelings for Lizzie in the first scenes, his statements of attraction to her eyes fall a bit flat.  Darcy's tone borders on petulance in the first act, which is reminiscent of Kartheiser's Pete on Mad Men. And my familiarity with that show may color how I feel about that level of petulance from Austen's imperfect hero. But I think part of this is owed to the difference between stage and screen/imagination. Where a film (or the mind's eye) can capture the brooding stare of a shadowy hero, the stage is much less forgiving of that type of self-indulgence.  The audience isn't likely to engage with Vincent Kartheiser's Darcy staring gloomily off into space and automatically embrace the idea that he's brooding about our dear Lizzie.  Such is the hurdle Kartheiser and Montondo have to overcome, and it's a hurdle they both clear by the second act. As the events unfold, we grow more fond of the misunderstood Darcy and we grow more understanding of Lizzie's having misunderstood him in the first place.  As truths are shared, feelings explored, we do root for these lovers.

Amidst that cheerleading is, of course, a colorful array of brilliant performances by the supporting cast. Suzanne Warmanen's Mrs. Bennet and Peter Thomson's Mr. Bennet are a fantastic, hilarious couple and provide raucous and acerbic (respectively) wit to counter the brooding emotions of romantic turmoil. Kris L. Nelson's icky, oily Mr. Collins provides the perfect foil to Mr. Darcy, casting in stark relief the differences between Lizzie's choices in a mate. And Thallis Santesteban's Mary Bennet (she also plays Georgiana Darcy) is a low alto, deadpan comedic joy amidst her giggly throng of sisters.

To add to the hilarity, when I attended, dear Mr. Bingley, played by Hugh Kennedy, accidentally split his pants during what was assuredly a moving proposal.  It may have lost a bit of its emotional power, but it made up for it with peals of laughter from the audience and a squeal of shock from Christine Weber's Jane (which would be appropriate for her character undoubtably).  The joy of live theater, indeed!

Given Mr. Kartheiser's Mad Men fame, I expect this run will sell out often, and rightly so. Kartheiser and company make for a wonderful homage to Austen's dearest couple and whether you've a bit of a literary crush on Mr. Darcy (I'm not the only one with literary crushes, right?) or you just like a good dose of British snark, there's a seat with your name on it at the Guthrie.

Pride and Prejudice runs through August 31st.

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Alliance Française

I began taking classes at the Alliance Française downtown this past winter. The classes are wonderful for anyone looking to improve their skills or begin the language from scratch.  I studied French throughout high school and spoke a melange of the language and Arabic when I served in the Peace Corps.  However, that was ten years ago! So, I'm a wee bit rusty. The teachers are encouraging, the students kind. And the foundational course (3 hours/once a week) and the conversation course (2 hours/once a week) were both great refreshers for reviving that long-dormant part of my brain that once knew how to conjugate the future perfect.

And now, I will attempt that paragraph in French. I will butcher this in places.

J'ai commence à prendre des cours à l'Alliance Francaise  l'hiver dernier. Les classes sont merveilleuse  pour quelqu'un qui cherche à améliorer leurs compétences (I cheated for that phrase and used Google translate) ou de commencer la langue. J'ai étudié le français au lycée et j'ai parlé un mélange de francais et la langue arabe quand j'etais une volontaire avec la Corps de la Paix. Mais, c'était il y a dix ans! Donc, j'ai oublie beaucoup. Les profs sont encouragants et les eleves sont gentils. Et le cours fondamental (3 heures / une fois par semaine) et le cours de conversation (2 heures / une fois par semaine) ont été les deux formidable for reviving that long-dormant part of my brain that once knew how to conjugate the future perfect.

I gave up at the end...still need to take several more classes.

If you've been debating taking a crack at learning a foreign language and French has piqued your curiosity (and why wouldn't it? the language of love!) or if you want to improve your grammatical or conversational skills, do yourself a favor and stop by the Alliance Francaise. Even if the classes seem a bit pricey to start ($300-$500 ballpark for 10 week course, some shorter classes are offered for a lower price), just immersing yourself in all the AF activities (happy hours, Saturday petit dejeuner, movies, speakers) will nourish your little Francophile soul.

Allons y!

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War Horse

The play opens with an army officer sketching the scene before him, his etches transcribed on a parchment backdrop in grey and black strokes. From that first moment, those first sketches, and that first introduction to a rambunctious foal, the audience is introduced to a world of stunning, yet somehow familiar, visuals. The frolic of a young horse, the rolling hills of some unknown Anglo countryside, the sweet melodies of an Irish lilt, all transform the Orpheum into an idyllic respite from the outside world. Just as our young heroes, horse and boy alike, are shielded, briefly, from the pains of the war to come, so the audience is coaxed into a gentle amazement of that little foal and the powerful beauty he becomes.

Joey, our equine hero, has all the personality of his human actors, with each emotion magically translated by the artists behind his puppetry.  The flick of an ear, the swish of a tail, it's amazing how much can be communicated by the simplest of movements. But with these tiny conversations, Albert, our human hero, falls in love with his spirited horse and the audience isn't far behind.

For those of you who may have seen the movie based on this play and ponder the merit in seeing the movie's inspiration, just trust me. Where the movie was explicit and literal, the play is figurative and magical.  The violence of war is almost more disturbing and emotional in the play setting because the audience is so actively engaged in the struggles of our heroes.  The crash of bombs, the bloody consequences of war, the audience is reminded over and over again how impossible our heroes' story is, how preposterous Albert's dream to recover his dear friend. Where the movie made this apparent in the somewhat tired rehashing of battlefield mayhem, the play establishes with a contraction of Joey's tired legs, a sinking of Albert's shoulders, and the incessant marching of both toward death or miracles.

The cast is strong and somewhat supplementary to the stars of the show, the horses. The exception would be Albert, whose fierce devotion to Joey is part of what builds the horse's power for the audience. We all sit in Joey's saddle, we all ride him through the field, and we all feel his heartbreak when boy and horse are divided by circumstance. There's a sense that this, this child-animal connection, should be sacred from the perils of war. This, at least, should be protected. But that's part of the play's strength.  That sacred bond may not protect either hero from the experience of violence, but it protects them from death, sustains them for their reunion. And the entire cast expertly supports the audience's experience of that bond, allowing that love to be the true star of the show.

War Horse is a must-see, a magical, heart-tugging experience that will leave you uplifted and in awe of the power of theater. It plays at the Orpheum through June 23rd.

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Books and Bars

Books and Bars is an open book club that meets to discuss their book choice at three locations across the Cities each month.  Moderated by Jeff Kamin and sponsored by Magers & Quinn (probably my favorite bookstore North of the Mason-Dixon), Books and Bars gives you ample opportunity to stretch those long dormant liberal arts major muscles at three different bars.

As Bryant Lake Bowl, the current site of the Minneapolis discussion, is walking distance from me, it was an easy election for which location I'd frequent for my first B&B experience. Beer in hand, I settled in and tried to keep my English-major self from appearing too eager to talk about a book I'd loved (The Dog Stars by Peter Heller). As with pretty much any book club, the crowd was a mix of people who liked, loved, loathed, and didn't finish the book.  Similar to any book club, too, there are those with strong opinions and those with quieter ones.  Jeff does a great job keeping the conversation moving and by the end of the just-over-an-hour discussion, everyone in the room had piped up.

If you're looking for a book club but can't find anyone cool enough to join you, don't sweat it.  I went solo and it was fine.  Yeah, everybody else in the group of 20 was part of a couple or a posse, but beer is a great equalizer and Jeff won't let you feel lonely, squired away in some corner. This is a great way to get out and about, get a conversation-starting book under your belt, and maybe check out a bar you haven't frequented in awhile. As the bar locations for Minneapolis are going through some changes, check out the Books and Bars website for next month's locale. I'll see you there...

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Lola's Lake Waconia Half-Marathon

This was my first time running Lola's, in part because this is only the second year of the half-marathon's existence. Those who ran it yesterday were reminiscing (not particularly fondly) about last year's weather, which was hot and humid. I suppose one benefit to our slow summer warm-up this year was a beautiful Saturday morning for a very challenging course.

Starting and finishing in downtown Waconia, blocks from Lola's Lakehouse, the course is hilly. I thought the Minnetonka Half was hilly. Nope, not by comparison. Lola's is just packed with rolling hills, sharp inclines, and miserable grinders. But you've also got a beautiful view of the lake for a large portion of the race and a comfortable number of participants.  My only complaint was the starting procedure.  As Lola's hosts a half-marathon, a 10 miler, a 5K, and a half-marathon relay, there are a lot of moving parts to understand race day morning. The half-marathon and 10 miler started 10 minutes apart.  I had friends who did the ten miler and their experience was that they "wandered/ran several blocks before running over the starting time pad." They didn't really understand where/when the race actually started.  The half-marathon start was a bit smoother but we still wandered around some before actually arriving at the start line.  I'm not sure what the remedy would be, fewer individual events, better directions about starting locations...

I liked the size of Lola's.  Some half-marathons are so huge they're unwieldy and the check-in and get-out processes are just a nightmare.  But Lola's is a smaller race with the same amenities (if not better) as the larger races.  The race shirts were cute, the medals were nice, the water stops were stocked and supported by friendly faces. All racers were invited to a post-race celebration at Lola's for drinks and lunch, something that is untenable with the larger races. It makes for a friendlier, small town feel, and that's a welcome comfort after battling those gnarly hills! This is one I will definitely do again.

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Hello Pizza

The night before half-marathons I usually insist on pizza. Pizza Luce serves me well but this time I decided a race was a good excuse to check out Hello Pizza, Ann Kim's new New York style restaurant in Edina. 

The restaurant is casual and super family-friendly. In fact, upon first glance, I wondered if maybe it was a bit too kid-friendly for my friend and I (kids are great but sometimes you're not really keen on competing with noise levels of somebody else's hellions).  But the space is comfy and not so cramped as to encourage irritating decibel levels.  So, if you've got kids in tow, this is a great, easy spot for supper.  And if you don't have kids in tow, don't worry, this place has all the charm of a neighborhood slice shop and the kids are too engrossed with their cheesy triangles to cause problems. And those cheesy triangles sit atop casually adorable plates that appear to be paper plates but are actually sturdy dinnerware. Cuteness overload.

But that cuteness has substance. The first bit of joy occurred while waiting in line when my friend pointed to the line-up of beverages and say, "Rae, isn't Cheerwine that drink you love?" What?! It's HERE?! Heaven help me. Even if the pizza was awful (which it definitely is not) I'd come back just for the joy of drinking my favorite soft drink, a product of my Southern homeland. A cherry-flavored cola far superior to cherry coke, you'll thank me once you take your first swig.

And that swig pairs beautifully with the Hello Trinity, topped with crimini mushrooms and sausage with an intense and delicious amount of fennel. The perfect amount of mozzarella coupled with that expert New York style crust, foldable without being wimpy, round out an excellent slice.  I paired my slice with the smoky greens.  I know some people don't like salad.  But lots of people like bacon.  If you like bacon and hate salad, I would encourage you to give this one a whirl.  The smoky bleu cheese and applewood smoked onions  give a meat-y heft to the greens without any actual meat. My mouth told me it was a light, crunchy bowl of greens.  My nose told me it was bacon. Magic, I swear. 

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Sunset Boulevard

New Century Theatre would not be the expected staging in my mind for Sunset Boulevard. It's a small, casual space, definitely not what one would typically picture for a grandiose Andrew Lloyd Webber musical.

But I was happily surprised by how deftly the actors made the space make sense. Norma Desmond, executed beautifully by Sarah Gibson, was still the larger-than-stage-life character we need her to be, equal parts self-obsessed maniac, fragile ex-ingenue, and tragic product of society's hunger for perfection. The musical unfolds in flashbacks and every inch of the stage is used to capture Old Hollywood movie sets, the interior of a star's mansion, bigwig office spaces, and a mental institution. Norma falls apart bit by bit as those around her struggle to piece her back together with accolades, lies, and the latest beauty treatment. Her slippage is often humorous, but with that twinge of pathos that makes laughing feel a bit naughty. It isn't kind to laugh at the crazy lady, but it makes for good theatre. And that's all Sunset Boulevard, the play itself and this particular production are shooting for, a bit of levity in a sea of melodrama.

Gibson is supported by a great ensemble cast, most notably Aly Westberg as the bubbly, young, naive Betty Schaefer, who serves as a refreshing foil to Norma's descent into murderous madness. Betty's love for and Norma's mad infatuation with Joe Gillis, played with a bit of swagger and lots of melancholy by Tim Kuehl, serves as inspiration for much of the show's movement. Joe, in many ways, is just as pathetic as Norma.  He may have his wits about him, but his depression and negativity seem to rob him of those faculties.  It's a dangerous mix for a naive girl and a woman gripping sanity with her little finger.

A sluggish start quickly smooths into a solid performance by a great ensemble. A deft use of video cameras aid the audience's attachment to a once-loved star and allows the theatre to feel bigger than it is without losing the intimacy the space provides. The show suffers only by comparison to Webber's more famous classics, the book for this show lacks the oomph and hook of the catchiest of Webber's music.  But there are still gems scattered throughout, and the actors provide a sad, engaging story of youth and hope lost.

Sunset Boulevard plays at New Century Theatre, located in the City Center in downtown Minneapolis, through Sunday, June 23rd.

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Rye Deli

A good sandwich is a beautiful thing. there are few things more satisfying when you're feeling peckish and the perfectly chewy piece of bread paired with the right layer of ingredients can alleviate most of any day's ills.

I went to Rye Deli for the first time this week with my Mama along for the maiden voyage.  We were both starving so we started with the Deli Debris. Honestly, I didn't expect nachos. Fancy nachos. I expected a plate of odds and ends, glorified Lunchables. But Rye Deli knows better than that and piled their bagel chips with chunks of smoked meats and hot and sweet peppers and, of course, covered it with expertly melted cheese. It was a very heavy appetizer so Mom and I polished off maybe 1/6 of it before boxing the rest of it for Dad. It would be an awesome order for a table of happy hour buddies.

Sandwich-wise I opted for the Midnight Turkey.  This is an aptly named sandwich.  It just tastes like THE sandwich you would make if you were up late and found yourself staring at a stocked fridge (lucky!) that included wonderfully moist herb-y turkey, fresh sprouts, and crisp veggies to sit on top of a delicate lemon aioli. My fridge usually does not look like that, thus, I'm pretty sure midnight will happen upon me at some point in the future and I will yearn for this sandwich.

I didn't drink this time around, something I'd likely remedy next time given the interesting cocktail list and excellent local beer selection on tap and impressive list of bottle options. This is a spot more people should be heading to for happy hour (7 days a week, 2-7 pm), the drink and nosh specials are just too good to pass up. And if you're like me and call 55403, -04, -05, or -08 home, on Wednesdays you get 20% off! Embrace your neighborhood deli, order the Deli Debris!

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Cajun 2 Geaux Crawfish Boil

One of the spring activities I miss most from my years in New Orleans is the crawfish boil. I have fond memories of heading to a park after class, sipping a beer at a picnic table after a milk jug-sized scoop of crawdads and sausage was dumped in my styrofoam container. I remember one boil where the crawfish were poured into a canoe and everyone scooped their own wares. Not a bad serving dish, the canoe.

Suffice it to say I'm rather surprised to have the opportunity to talk about crawfish boils several states North of my last such party. But thankfully, Cajun 2 Geaux food truck exists, and thus I'm a happy Southern girl who has had a healthy dose of mudbugs and shrimp. I've affectionately reviewed the truck before, here, but I figure the crawfish boil is a distinct event and worthy of its own mention. 

For $22 guests had an all-you-can-eat spread of fresh crawfish and shrimp with the requisite corn cobs and potatoes thrown into the mix.  I was sad not to see more andouille sausage, but crawfish were the main attraction and these were beauties and there were plenty for the feast.  I was skeptical that Cajun 2 Geaux would provide the requisite kick I expect in a crawfish boil, given the sensitivity of the Upper Midwestern palate.  But I shouldn't have doubted Chef Tim's Houma, Louisiana roots.  Not overly spicy, but with enough heat to perfectly accompany the Summit brewery choices, this boil was the real deal. And even if the crawfish spread didn't entice you (I wouldn't understand that, honestly), I can attest to the jambalaya (pictured) and po'boys, too, from prior visits to this particular truck. A festive brass band played indoors (when it rained) and out, and those $7 flights of Summit were a perfect pairing for a summertime party. 

This was the second of three opportunities to get in on a true Louisiana tradition.  The next chance is a boil on Saturday, June 15th at 1pm at Pour Decisions in Roseville. Registration is here. Whether you're a crawfish pro or a newbie, the Cajun 2 Geaux crawfish boil experience isn't to be missed. Dig in and get messy, pinch da tail and suck da head!

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Prince

I debated writing anything about Prince's Saturday performance at Myth Nightclub. I mean, it's Prince. And I am, by no means, a music reviewer any more than I am a restaurant or theatre or festival reviewer. I would say, moreso than a reviewer, I experience certain things and I want to share them. I write to share, not to warn, or complain, or even to overly promote. Over the 6 years I've lived in the Cities I've slowly, sometimes painfully, built a little world for myself peppered with pretty awesome experiences.  And it's those experiences I want to record for posterity.

So, in the interest of sharing, here we go...

Prince has been on my bucket list for a long time.  Knowing that he was from Minneapolis, that his presence was inextricably woven into the music history of the city, just made the thought of seeing him seem all the more elusive.  When he played at the Dakota recently I was crushed to learn of the exorbitant ticket prices and just resigned myself to yearning for some magical moment when I'd happen to be at some late show at First Ave and he'd pop up and decide to play. A quasi-ridiculous daydream, I know.

I thought the Myth show would be another such heartbreak when the $280 tickets went on sale. That is 25% of a round trip ticket to London. There is no part of me that can justify $280 for a ticket, not in this paying-off-student-loans period of my life. And I will admit there is some part of me that was bit peeved at the Purple One for being so inaccessible. At some point Prince was a poor, scrappy kid buying records in between paychecks, right? He wasn't always so removed from the rest of us.

But mere hours before the show, some cheaper tickets went on sale for $140 and $99.  I opted for the cheapest ($112 with fees) and still shut my eyes when I hit "submit" on the payment button and hoped however they were dividing these strata of tickets would make sense.

I was solo with my ticket (a dear friend went for the stellar ticketing and probably felt Prince's sweat on her at some point) and I wished we'd gotten there a bit earlier just so I could have had a closer view from the beginning. I'm very short so standing behind 3-4 rows of people (is everyone in Minnesota 6'2?) was just not going to work out. I could see snips of someone (Prince?) for the first 2 songs and then decided to risk it and check the balcony for the second time and see if I could squeeze somewhere with a better vantage point. Success! I landed tucked in a Rachel-sized space dead center of the balcony with a perfect view.

I know other reviewers have said Prince never really took off, but for me, as someone who'd never seen him live and never dreamed I'd get to, the experience was just impossibly fun.  Swinging from newer songs (Screwdriver)  to some classics (When Doves Cry, Purple Rain with Bobby Z on the drums), the pendulum moved from pounding tempo to piano-laden croons. I suppose that could be called uneven, but to me it was just a perfect taste of everything I love about Prince. Unpredictable. Kind of weird. Guitar licks and vocals that just make your jaw drop in their intensity. Slow jam instrumentals that confuse you until you place the tune (Even Flow by Pearl Jam). It just all felt perfectly Prince to me, which was all I wanted for my $112. And I suppose what I loved the most was Prince's warmth, his constant shout outs to his "hometown," his heartfelt admiration for Bobby Z's lifelong loyalty as they played Purple Rain together. Prince seemed happy to be onstage, happy to introduce his new band, happy to show off a bit, and happy to sit back and let the crowd sing along. And for me, that happiness was definitely infectious.

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Lola's Lakehouse

Waconia is not my normal stomping ground by any stretch of the imagination. For better or worse, I stick to Minneapolis for the most part, although I'm always anxious to explore outside my adopted Metropolis.

As my folks now live far (!) out west of the Cities, on a lake, with all that Minnesotan lake-ness, we found ourselves without a viable restaurant on Memorial Day. With so few choices in small towns, you have to drive to other small towns to find food.  But I was happy to land at Lola's Lakehouse with a view of Lake Waconia and a warm dish of steamed mussels to share.  As we had a vegetarian in our midst, it was great to see so many vegetarian options, and not just your standard veggie burger fare but additional flatbread choices.

After sharing a delicious bowl of mussels steamed in a white wine sauce with fennel and leeks, my sister's first mussel experience, I settled on the walleye cakes and a salad. I loaded those walleye cakes with Tabasco, but I think that's a personal preference.  The flavor and crunch of the cakes was great and the size of the plate was really perfect for supper when accompanied by the house salad (sucker for shaved parmesan). My mom enjoyed the fish and chips and I may have hypothetically, and happily, stolen a healthy chunk of one filet.  Lightly battered, these are just a solid rendition of the classic and a perfect vehicle for that malt vinegar.

I can embrace the smaller town life of my parents, as long as I can enjoy a view of the water and always head home to the city.

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Maeve

The more I wander around the Northeast Minneapolis Arts District, the more time I want to spend there and the more frustrated I am with myself that I've avoided it these last several months.

After a recent trip to Dangerous Man Brewing I had an hour to kill and a stomach to fill  (poetry!) so I wandered over to Maeve, a lovely cafe just kitty-corner to the brewery. I wasn't starving but once I looked at the menu I kinda wanted them to deliver my lunch for the rest of my life.  And I could have a nutella panini for breakfast?? Really? Man, I love a good sandwich, with or without chocolate hazelnut spread.

No nutella this time, and no sandwich, but Maeve's Chopped Salad, which was a crisp, light, filling plate of greens, ham, herbed chevre, and warm buttered bread. I admit that just seeing the herbed spheres of chevre made me decide that from now on I need to serve chevre that way. So cute and pretty and fun to eat, not to mention delicious.

I sat at the window at the high seats looking out over the sidewalk.  A pile of magazines and newspapers were stacked to my left and another diner sat alone to my right, typing away on her laptop.  This is definitely a place one can enjoy a solo trip, but it's a great place to just chill and chat with friends, cozy and comfy, with a small but satisfying menu that should make even the pickiest sandwich connoisseur happy.  And I bet those sandwiches wrap up real handy if you want to bring them over to Dangerous Man...

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